


Not Today

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 08:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5778301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of Gas missing scenes: Maybe she was unconscious for a lot of what happened, but Zoe still saw and heard plenty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Today

The mortar had tumbled into their foxhole without a sound to herald its arrival. If she hadn’t been looking that way when it arrived, she probably never would survive to know it. As it was, the small movement caught her eye just as she’d been making a weary sweep of the place, and with the shell had come the knowledge she had less than two seconds to save a few lives, her own included.

Zoe lunged for the live shell and scooped it up, then stood to throw it as far as she could. She succeeded on the first account, not so much the second. The mortar had blown just a dozen feet from the foxhole, the flame and fury of the blast sending her tumbling back into darkness.

Darkness with voices in it.

“…vitals are strong…”

“…why isn’t she…”

“…bleeding…injury…head…”

A groan sounded by her, its warm breath blowing across the back of her hand, which was held with a fierce tightness. Despair: she knew the sound of it by heart. 

Zoe stirred, wanting to understand what the voices were saying. That was how you stayed alive, by knowing and acting, and her gut clamored at her for not doing either. “Cap?” she whispered. 

Her hand was squeezed so hard, she frowned. Not the cap--he never showed fear, not unless you could look past the deadness in his eyes. One of the green newbies then, maybe, the ones who looked up at her like she was savior and saint and mother all at once. The desperation fit, but there was something else familiar she couldn’t quite touch. 

“Zoe? Baby, can you hear me?” 

Wash. Her husband, and the thought made her smile. But he hadn’t been in the war, the one part of her life that wasn’t tainted with the fear and the blood, and his being there confused her. Where--when--was she?

“Zoe, open your eyes for me, okay? I just need you to open your eyes for a minute.” 

She usually liked it when he begged, but not like that. He was as free with his emotions as the captain wasn’t with his, and fear was rolling off her lover in waves. The protector in her, more warrior than woman, forced her heavy eyes open. 

Wash was inches from her face, clear even to her unfocused gaze, and the eyes she loved for all their laughter and life suddenly filled with tears. “Hey. What did I tell you about sleeping in?”

Zoe had no idea what he was talking about, but that happened sometimes with him and it never mattered. She could see what was in his heart. “Sorry,” she breathed, contrite. She’d scared him. A wife wasn’t supposed to do that. 

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t a hero, we’d have words about this, but Mal would probably…” He trailed off, looking hurting and guilty all at once.

Zoe blinked, trying to clear the inexplicable mud from her head. A report of what was going on would have been nice, but Wash looked like he hadn’t been paying attention to anything but her for some time. Well, at least she could ask about that. “What happened?” she murmured.

“Zoe, can you look at me for a minute?”

Simon rose up from behind Wash like a specter. It took effort to shift her focus to him, but it was good he was there. If something had happened to Serenity, at least some of the crew had survived; she hadn’t failed them all. 

Light shone in her eyes, making her wince, and then Simon did some doctorly touching. He felt cold, or maybe she was warm, and once she thought about it, her head and her chest hurt, and the mud in her head wasn’t pain, it was the fine gauze of drugs. Which meant she was hurt even worse than she felt. 

“Do you remember anything, Zoe?” Simon was still talking. She watched him drowsily, feeling Wash massage her palm. She liked that, as he well knew, and she curled her fingers around her husband’s thumb in thanks. Did he know how much he grounded her? Odd, when she was the steady one and he was the pilot.

She frowned at Simon’s question. Remember--it was like pulling yourself free from the sucking Pacquin swamps, but she stubbornly worked the memory loose. “Your…birthday?”

He smiled, that way that made him look as young as his sister. “Yes, that’s right. We were celebrating my birthday.”

“Then the engine blew, and you took the blast instead of Kaylee,” Wash said gravely. Once she’d gotten to known him, she could see the age behind his play, but at that moment he was every bit as old as she. “You hit pretty hard--wiped out the table and a few suicidal chairs. We weren’t sure…” He flinched. 

Ah. Her heart warmed at his worry, even if she hated being the cause of it. “Sorry,” she said again. 

Wash shook his head firmly, eyes still glistening but starting to smile again. “Enough with the apologizing. What matters is you’re okay and you won’t be scaring your nice husband with the weak heart anytime soon again, right?” He craned back to look at Simon. “Right, Doc?”

“Everything looks good--I think we got all the internal bleeding stopped. Do you feel any sharp pains, Zoe? Any difficulty breathing?”

She considered, shook her head slightly. “Just tired,” she whispered. There had always been pain in the days of the war--the aches now were nothing. But she wanted to curl up against her husband and sleep until the mud in her head cleared out and his heartbeat had slowed to match hers. There should be room for him…

But this wasn’t their bunk. Zoe peered past Simon and Wash to the wall behind them. It wasn’t even Serenity. Maybe one of the shuttles. 

She turned back to Wash, no longer patient or wife but second-in-command. “What happened?”

Wash and Simon exchanged a look. Her husband squeezed her hand. “It’s a long--”

“No air. No heat. No life.” River’s sing-song drifted out from somewhere beyond Zoe’s range of vision. “Dead by dead, hands of red.” 

Zoe’s chest tightened. “You said…the engine blew…”

Wash sighed, running his free hand through his hair. It was sticking up more than usual, like stubble in a wheat field. “It took life support with it, and the fire ate up a lot of the air. Kaylee couldn’t fix it, so Mal…well, he made himself a decision. Split us up between the two shuttles and sent us off to make some new friends.” 

In a way, it calmed her, knowing. “He stayed with Serenity,” Zoe said quietly. 

“Yeah. Said he’d wait for help. Hey, how’d you know he wasn’t on the other--” He must have seen the answer in her face because he fell silent, hurt briefly flickering in his eyes. Wash usually took well her past with Mal, the way she knew how the captain thought, but it still bothered him. 

There wasn’t time for that now, though. “How long?” 

Wash’s brow wrinkled in confusion, and it was Simon who answered. “About three hours. It’s been close to eight since…the explosion.”

“Fire,” River whispered behind him, and Simon turned away to say something to her. 

Eight hours. Serenity should have had air for all of them for a lot longer, but who knew how much the fire had devoured. Mal’s plan made sense--maybe she would have done the same herself--except for one thing. He was her captain, and she wasn’t deserting him. Zoe shut her eyes for a moment, marshalling strength, then opened them and turned calmly to her husband. “Turn around.” 

“Baby--”

“We can’t leave him there alone.” 

“Zo, Captain’s a big boy…” He hadn’t wanted to leave Mal, either, she could see it in his eyes, along with resentment. That she didn’t want to abandon the captain, or something else? 

“Turn around,” she repeated softly, firmly. 

He stared at her a long moment, trying to understand, and she stared back, trying to make him. But they’d never communicated so much as accepted, and finally Wash nodded, a glint of humor creeping back into his eyes. “Well, at least if I ever suspect there’s some other guy in your life, I’ll know who it is.” 

It cost her, but she smiled at him and shook her head. “Never happen. Cap’ll never be as good a kisser as you are,” she whispered.

It was worth it to see him sputter, trying to figure out if he should be upset or flattered. 

Zoe closed her eyes, no longer fighting the pull of sleep. 

“That’s it, you just rest,” came the whisper, soft as rabbit’s fur, and the brush of lips against her palm, then nothing but the darkness of the foxhole again. 

*****

The jar of landing rocked her awake, and memory was closer now, returning faster. The explosion--the shuttle. And River sitting next to her, watching her curiously. 

“Is it always that loud when you sleep?”

“Sometimes,” Zoe conceded. “Are we back?”

“We’re back.” That was her husband again, trying to sound cheerful but tension strung through his voice. He walked from the cockpit toward the airlock, giving her hand a stroke as he passed her. 

She was too tired to get up and watch or even to want very much to do so, but she still listened intently to the sounds of movement behind her head. 

“Here goes nothing,” Wash muttered. There was the _whoosh_ of the airlock door opening. 

Zoe sniffed the air automatically, smelling the ship. 

“We got air!” her husband crowed, then dashed back to her side. “You were right, he did it. I don’t know how, but that _hwoon dahn_ did it.” 

“Any sign of the cap’n?” Zoe murmured. 

“Ah.” Wash’s forehead puckered. “Well, no, but Mal’s just probably up on the bridge ready to call us back. We got--”

“Blood,” River said calmly. 

“What?” Simon passed her, heading for the airlock, too, and a half-minute later his distant voice carried back. “She’s right. There’s blood all over the walkway.” 

Wash looked at her, her worry in his eyes.

“Go,” she whispered, and strengthlessly pushed at his hands. 

His face twisted briefly but he went.

This was where it got hard. She was used to doing, not sitting and waiting. Or lying, for that matter, resisting sleep once more as she tried to listen for any word of what was going on outside the shuttle. 

There were a few distant calls, clangs of hatches being opened, River talking to herself. Then a long silence. 

Silence was bad, whether on a ship or in a war. It always meant something worse was coming. 

Then running footsteps, faint at first, quickly pounding louder on the metal walkways. Wash appeared beside her, out of breath and pale. 

“He’s…uh, he’s alive, but…it looks bad. Trust Mal to find somebody to not play nice with all alone on a ship in the middle of nowhere--I think he missed his calling in the Diplomatic Corps.” He couldn’t keep the lighter tone going, which told Zoe more than any words. “He got himself shot and there’s…” Wash swallowed. “There’s blood all over the ship. I’m guessing whoever he got the part from wanted more than Mal was offering, what with the shooting and the blood. No sign of anyone else on the ship, though.”

“Where?” Zoe asked sharply. 

“Where--ah,” Wash frowned, “where was he shot, or where did we find him?”

She tried to curtail her impatience. “Where did you find him?” 

“Bridge. It, uh…” Wash looked away. “It looks like he was going to call the shuttles back. He was passed out--did I mention the lots of blood?--just a few feet away from the button. He almost made it. If we hadn’t turned back…”

“But we did,” Zoe said resolutely. 

“Right. Of course we did, because we don’t run out on our shipmates, do we? I mean, what kind of _tyen shuh duh_ would we be if we did, right?” 

She closed her eyes, too tired to deal with this now, worried about the captain, and the rest of the crew. “Call the other shuttle back,” she whispered. 

“I already did. Even I get something right once in my life.”

She smiled drowsily. “Married me, didn’t you?”

“Okay, twice in my life.” But he didn’t sound so bitter anymore, and his touch was gentle as he picked up her hand again. “As soon as Simon takes care of Mal, we’ll get you up to the infirmary.” 

“Mmm.” If the captain was incapacitated, that meant she was in command. What if she was out, too? The greens always messed things up. 

No, not the greens anymore; the war was over. It was just her husband, her crew now. Living day to day, just beyond Alliance reach. Mal never really knew how much his ship meant to the others, as well, but this was home for all of them, this and Wash for her. But it was all Mal had.

Or so he seemed to think. 

Zoe lost another war, this time to sleep. 

*****

Voices again, different this time. The air smelled sharp, with a medical tang. The infirmary. 

“Look out, she’s back!” 

Her mouth pulled into a smile despite itself. She had never smiled so much before she got married, even before the war. 

“Hey, Zoe.” A softer voice this time. 

Her eyes opened more easily each time. “Hey, Kaylee,” she murmured back. 

Inara appeared behind the ship’s mechanic, looking a little pale but calm as usual. Mal would have been astonished at the comparison, but their Companion lived behind a mask as thick as the captain’s. 

“Is everyone all right?” Zoe asked around a yawn. 

“We returned safely. Mal’s still…” she trailed off with a glance to the left. 

Zoe followed her gaze, to the sight of the captain on the gurney next to hers. Simon was bent over him, rigid with concentration, leaving only Mal’s face visible to her. It was cut with pain and looked grey even in the infirmary’s bright lights. Worse than she’d ever seen him in the war. And young--he’d hate that. Her jaw tightened. 

“He’ll be all right,” her husband soothed, running a hand up and down her arm. “Mal’s tough.” 

“And he’s not alone anymore,” Inara said softly. 

Zoe didn’t take her eyes off her oldest friend. “Doctor?” she asked. 

“I don’t know yet,” Simon said tensely over his shoulder. “I got the bullet out but he’s lost a lot of blood and there’s infection… Wash, I think we’ll have to do that transfusion, after all.” 

“Whenever you’re ready, Doc.” 

She looked a question at her husband. 

“Our blood matches.” He gave a small laugh. “Can you believe that? Probably the only thing we have in common. You think he’ll wake up with a sense of humor?” He tried to smile but the worry shone off him. 

“There was blood everywhere,” Inara said, almost to herself. “The cargo bay, the engine room, the bridge, here…” 

Simon shook his head. “He gave himself a shot of adrenalin. He could have killed himself with it, but that’s probably what kept him on his feet so long.” 

How Mal would know how to do that, Zoe had no idea, but then the captain always had been full of surprises. That he’d survived this, too, wouldn’t be one of them. 

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall outside. “Think we got it all cleaned up now, ’cept for the Mess--I ain’t scraping up all that food by myself.” Jayne’s usual belligerence sounded muted. 

“I’ll take care of the Mess, although I’m afraid your cake is a lost cause, Doctor.” 

Simon shook his head absently.

“How’s he doing?” Jayne asked. 

“I’m still trying to stabilize him, and I could do a lot better job if you all just waited outside and stopped distracting me!” It hadn’t been much of a birthday for poor Simon, Zoe realized. They’d have to make it up to him when everyone was back on their feet. 

She looked again at Mal, then at the others. Shepherd Book had just started to shoo them out, although he kept stealing glances back at the silent captain. Simon’s face was strained and unhappy, and as he put a needle in Wash’s arm for the transfusion, she could see the red that covered the front of his smock and soaked the rags underneath the table. 

Mal was covered to his chest, but the bulk of bandages on his side was visible through the blanket, and Zoe winced with empathy. Gut shot--she knew from experience how horrifically painful that was. She wasn’t a woman prone to imagination, but it was hard not to picture Mal fighting off his attackers, then dragging himself around the ship leaking and hurting but determined, leaving a blood trail as sign of all he’d done, before collapsing. That was the man who held her loyalty in a way her husband might never understand, someone she admired even when she disagreed with him. 

And who had touched the lives of all those there, in more ways than he knew. 

She lay back to wait, hoping Mal at least knew he wasn’t alone anymore. 

*****

The captain was only asleep now, folding his hand down to his side with a sigh as Book loosened his hold. Mal’s color was better, but the small smile on his face was what Zoe saw. He’d woken, known them, sounded good. And then, just before falling asleep again, had started awake. 

__

_“Y’all gonna be here when I wake up?”_

__

What loner asked a question like that? 

What stoic cared? 

Zoe smiled, reaching out a hand, knowing Wash would be there to take it. This was the Truth, the one Wash had taught her, and the one Serenity and her crew were slowly forcing on Mal. The war, the Alliance, the dark: none of it mattered so much when you not only had what to keep flying with, but who. 

The captain had always said everybody died alone. And maybe he still would. Zoe pulled Wash’s hand over her heart and closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of their joined hands. Maybe they would all die alone. 

But not today. 

The End


End file.
